Rising Snowstorm
by Arden Arwin Asha
Summary: Seven years after the events of RWBY, Bismuth Spectros is a new hunter-in-training, looking to become one of the defenders of the world. This is the story of how he gets there.


**A/N: Welcome to my new project, including my own OC team.**

 **"What, another?" you cry. I know they're overdone, but I needed something new to write. No, I'm not giving up on Host and Play, but this is coming out alongside it. I will release profiles alongside chapters as characters are introduced. The first one, for the main character, is at the end of this chapter.**

 **So, without further ado:**

 **RISING SNOWSTORM**

 **Chapter 1: Turning Point**

I stood, head reclined in interlocked hands, feeling the unusually cold, northwesterly September breeze wash past my face. My eyes were closed, the temporary loss of sight heightening all other sensation. There was no sound but the fallen leaves skipping tirelessly from tree to tree. The slight smell of the forest tickled my nose, crisp and sharp.

Rays of light intruded upon my world as I allowed my eyes to open on a distant sunset, cold orange diffused in icy, crystal blue.

My feet crunched among leaves as I twisted to look east. Far from the light, the first suggestions of stars were visible; just bumpy pinpricks, already innumerable.

The crunching repeated itself, louder. I began to take shaky steps, hindered by the fatigue of inactivity, back up the hillside path. The house was just visible perched at the top, silently looking out with glazed eyes.

The pace was quick, but relaxed. I began to slip into involuntary meditation, as often happens when presented with such a wide environment with so little human interaction. Preferring the trimmed green in front of the house, I rarely came down this side of the hill. Perhaps that was an error; the slope had an appreciable beauty I hadn't really considered before.

The western valley slowly sank, revealing an iron sea that reflected the fiery sunset. I turned to smile one more time at the old view.

I shortly reached the door, and stepped over the threshold. I stopped in the kitchen briefly to pick up my bags, comfortable in the knowledge that they were fully packed. I grabbed Soli, tucking it under my arm, and walked straight through the living room and out.

The car was parked, the engine idling. My father was sitting at the wheel, smiling broadly.

"C'mon Biz. Places to go."

I returned the smile, Dad's tendency for understatement a little amusing in the present scenario.

I pulled open the rear door, slinging the bundle under my arm across to the other side of the car and ducking in. Even as the door clunked shut, the car began to pull away, and I pulled my seat belt across and strapped myself in.

The journey was silent, the view negating any human desire for conversation. I fell deep into my own imagination, stories of my future running their course, flickering and fading in one kind or another of happy ever after. There was that wonderful feeling of infinite possibility, the world holding its breath, that is only found in moments when the greatest events of the future are all laid out ahead.P

Scenes rushed past in the real, the sound of the car muffled, allowing for the faintest sounds of chirping and the tuneless melody of the wind to breach the periphery of my hearing as the sun faded from sight, blue giving way to navy.

Almost an hour later, we reached the first stop of the journey, an out-of-the-way airship pier, currently almost empty. Dad and I got out of the car, I with my effects and him trailing. As I stepped up to the sparsely populated open waiting area, he quietly said goodbye. I turned and smiled back, my own words scattered on the amplified wind. He nodded a sad farewell, returning to the car and moving off.

I watched the car for a while, but returned to watching the sky as an airship crossed the last hint of the light, heralded by a quiet muttering of the other inhabitants of the pier. They were all about my age, as diverse in appearance as armament.

The ship was a small one, two decks and an open forecastle held aloft by a humming engine. In traditional Atlesian industrial style, it was white and iron-grey, with soft yellowy light spilling from convex square windows, contours tapering to sweeping points.

It pulled up to the pier, empty. A sliding door on the near side opened, allowing the group onto the ship. The joint Valean emblem and sigil of Beacon Academy adorned the grey walls upon the interior.

I climbed the stairs to the second deck, finding a horseshoe of leathery cushioned seats. Choosing a spot towards the centre but offset a little, I sat. One or two others trickled up to this deck as well, sitting apart from me as those separated only by lack of introduction.

A minute later, the pulling sensation told me we had taken off. Sure enough, a sideways glance showed a tilted, receding pier and surroundings, shrinking into a lonely night. The road north was now deserted, though as we climbed higher I like to think I saw the faintest glimmer of headlights. Minutes after that, and the faintest bump rose on the horizon, a brown hill capped by a small cottage, waiting for someone's return.

The journey was only two hours. Perhaps halfway through I went over to the forecastle, leaning on the railing, bracing the high-altitude air, and surfing the shifting g-forces as the ship minutely and rhythmically corrected course. Ten minutes afterwards, I grabbed a cocoa from the tiny bar on the bottom floor. After finishing that, I folded the paper cup into a small glider, and watched it fly seemingly still in the wind, snatching it every time it threatened to dive off the edge and plummet to the tabletop ocean.

There was a changeover a while later as we went over to one of the carrier airships at the northern Vytal airport, then making the final three-and-a-half hour leg of the journey. I slept most of the way there, finding a quiet corner where the seat backs intersected to form a passable headrest.

It seemed seconds after the change we arrived at the dock at Beacon. It was almost one o'clock, and local students had arrived hours ago. I hurried to the group dorm, unrolling my sleeping bag as I did so and pausing to sign in at the abandoned desk. I laid the bag out in a space between two sleeping shapes, slipped into the linen-lined fabric, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke up, students were everywhere, all collecting weapons or dashing off to the washrooms to change. I turned on my scroll, and found to my dismay that it was already past nine, and I remembered that initiation was to start at ten. I swept up my pack and Soli, disappearing to swap into combat clothes, which for me consisted of a white t-shirt and trackies, a blue hoodie, fingerless gloves and trainers. The trainers, being fitted perfectly to my feet, were not easy to don, and I left a little later than others with less finicky footwear.

Just as I came out of the washroom, a voice hummed over the tannoys in the main building.

"Would all students please report to the clifftop for initiation."

I dashed across the hall, mind reeling. The relaxed and thoughtful atmosphere of the previous night had in no way prepared me for the insanity that now surrounded me. People everywhere, the excitement of initiation dominating their minds, while the rest of the school had a lie-in. I quickened my pace, not wanting to call behind.

Moving with the crowd, I was jostled and bumped all the way to the cliff. It was down a path behind the main building, and not hard to find - holographic sign posts were dotted across the campus. The green trees that fringed the Emerald Forest began to flit by as the clack of boots on stone gave way to the hitch of boots on grass. It was a minute's run later when finally I spotted the clifftop, thirty metres off ahead. As I ran up, I took stock of the teachers who stood there. I was surprised not to see Professor Ozpin. Professor Goodwitch was there, however, with a younger teacher to help her; a woman in her mid-twenties, wearing mostly black. Two cat ears were perched atop her head. She smiled at the assorted students, ignoring the occasional prejudiced murmur at her feline appearance with a glint in her amber eyes that told of her experience in ignoring such comments. I grimaced as I stepped onto a free podium, with the Valean sigil engraved upon it. The Deputy Head's voice pierced the breathless silence.

"Good morning. I am Professor Goodwitch, as you are likely aware. Professor Ozpin is currently away on official business, so I shall be mediating your initiation with Ms. Belladonna- " she dipped her head towards the young Faunus- "here.

"Now, before we begin, I am required to register you and ensure that you are all present and ready. When I call your name, you are to respond either 'ready' or 'permission to leave'."

She began to rattle off names, receiving a steady chorus of "ready"s.

"Bismuth Spectros!"

"Ready!" I replied. The chant continued down the line, stopping at the end for Professor Goodwitch to continue.

"You will be launched from this clifftop in a minute. You are to use your own landing strategy, and must proceed to the other end of the forest. Now, an advisory note on teams: you will be partnered with the person you first make eye contact with in the forest, assuming they do not already have a partner. Two pairs shall form a team. The teams will be assigned a leader based on the tactical and leadership skills you demonstrate in the forest; there will be no reconsideration. Is that clear?"

A number of mmhmms and "yup"s were all offered in response. She nodded, before continuing.

"At the other end of the forest is an abandoned temple, containing a number of relics. You and your partner must pick one. Should you not yet have a partner, you are to hold position at the temple until you meet another unaccompanied student.

"On the subject of rules: as of last year, the Academy is obliged to ensure the safety of its initiates. Therefore, should any one of your Aura levels reach zero, you shall be extracted by Bullhead and discharged, as opposed to fending for yourself."

There was a little comfort. If I failed, I was only to be expelled, and not…

"Now, are there any questions?"

The rustle and rattle of thirty-two battle-ready initiates was the only answer offered.

"Good luck, Hunters."

As one, the platforms sprang up, students flying out into the sky. My pathetic yelp of surprise was snatchers away by the wind, my head spinning from the monumental g-forces. Then, I connected myself. I span Oculus Soli, firing the sniper form to adjust my attitude. I now faced down, looking at the flying trees as I tried to decide on a landing strategy. Why didn't I plan for this?

Soli, in this form, was a dedicated sniper, and would not be of any use in slowing me down thanks to a low rate of fire. It would be even less helpful as a spear.

So, I had to rely on what else I had at my disposal: an athletic seventeen-year-old physique, unlocked Aura, perception Semblance, and clothing.

A flash of inspiration lit my mind. I grabbed the zipper on my hoodie, undoing it in one sweep, allowing the garment to flap in the wind. I pulled the lever on Soli that switched it to melee mode, holding the unfolding polearm with two hands as I laid it across the back of my thighs, fingers grabbing hold of the corners of the hoodie. I straightened the fabric out, trying to make myself more aerodynamic. I engaged my Semblance, time slowing, allowing me to make split-second judgements, responding to every gust of wind.

And it was working. Little by little, my flight path levelled, until I became a free glider. I rolled right, balancing Soli to hold coarse, banked left, pitched to avoid a tree, and dove towards a hanging branch.

Flipping Soli out left, I snagged the blade on the limb, slowing myself just enough to embed the tip in the ground as I impacted, slowing myself enough to stop a few centimetres shy of breaking my legs. Perfect.

Now, to the impending journey north.

 **A/N: And that's Chapter One. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. Fav, follow, review, whatever. Now, I'll end with Bismuth's profile.**

 **Bismuth Spectros (Biz-muth Spek-troass)**

 **Male**

 **Colours: Gold / Sky Blue**

 **Race: Human**

 **Semblance: Cerebral metabolism (think SuperHOT mode)**

 **Weapon: Sniper / Naginata, "Oculus Soli"**

 **Personality: Changeable but very tactical and calculating.**

 **Appearance:**

 **• Blond hair**

 **• Silver eyes**

 **• Tanned skin**

 **Outfit:**

 **• White T-shirt with gold design**

 **• Sky blue hoodie**

 **• Grey, fingerless gloves**

 **• White tracksuit bottoms**

 **• Blue trainers**


End file.
